A Master of Backseat Gaming
I'm a master of backseat gaming. No—if I'm being honest, I'm just a backseat-gaming addict. The kind who rummages through the community boards of Hunter Management, dropping unsolicited advice wherever I go.
A newbie's cry for help. I started tapping at the keyboard.
Clack, clack—
What a polite newbie.
That courteous attitude pulled a smile onto my face. There was the satisfaction of knowing my knowledge actually had value. The quiet social warmth of knowing someone's life had gotten a little better because of me. And, if I'm being honest, a flicker of superiority at the thought that my ability could reach out and affect another person.
This is why I can't quit backseat gaming.
In Hunter Management, my advice is never wrong. I'm rank one, after all.
It's a game about raising hunters and conquering the Tower, just like in real life—Hunter Management. HuntMan, for short. The player becomes a Master, a teacher, and advises their disciple hunters as they climb. A mage starts whining that a newly learned spell won't fire? You tell them to raise their mana stat. In other words, it's a game about giving backseat advice.
A game optimized for my particular talent.
I'd enjoyed handing out advice to other people since I was a kid. More precisely, I could never suppress the instinct. In the real world, that just made me a backseat-gaming pest. But inside HuntMan, as the rank-one player, it was the counsel of a seasoned veteran.
Clack, clack—
Of course, not everyone welcomes a little advice.
Backseat advice is rude all by itself. Right or wrong, it can get under someone's skin. I know perfectly well that the habit makes me unlikeable. Even so, it's baked into my nature, and suppressing it is harder than it sounds. So I made myself a rule, if only to keep the worst of it in check.
I never argue. The moment a rebuttal comes in, I apologize and get out. Let it go any further and it always turns into a fight. That's a law you learn after a lifetime of being a backseat gamer. Give the advice, but never act like you're above anyone. I've kept that rule not just on the boards, but in real life too.
Because, honestly, I'm nobody.
A backseat gamer has to stay humble. I'm just an unemployed guy who's decent at HuntMan. Reality isn't a game. Unlike HuntMan, the real world has no game system and no status window. In a game, you click a button and your stats go up. Real hunters have to train and pile up experience before they get any stronger. The backseat advice of a shut-in gamer with no job wasn't worth a thing.
Inside HuntMan, though, the situation was a little different. Someone else dropped a comment on the thread.
I was just about to hit the back button.
"What's with that? Heh."
The sudden, theatrical pivot in attitude got a laugh out of me. I typed out a few lines of advice and closed the community.
That evening, I came back to reality. Before dinner, Mom sat my younger sibling and me down with a warning.
"Your father's going to be retiring soon."
"What? Already? He's still in perfectly good shape."
"Looks like the guild has been putting pressure on him."
"Ah…"
I understood at once. This was the kind of thing adults arranged among themselves.
Dad had once been a very famous hunter. Then he had an accident in the Tower and stopped climbing. After that, he was reduced to running the same low floors over and over.
"I-it was that bad? How's the rehab going?"
"I never told you kids, but it was really serious. The guild must have concluded that rehabilitation isn't possible."
"…"
The greatest value a hunter carries is the ability to clear the upper floors. If those floors aren't conquered within eight months, that nation's Tower collapses and leaves catastrophic damage behind. The safety of the country and everyone in it is put at risk. But Dad can no longer move forward. His value has simply run out.
"But he's a founding member of the guild. How can they do this to him?"
"That's right!"
"…Let's stop. When your father gets home, don't let it show. Just know that's how it is."
Complaining wouldn't change a thing. It would only make Mom's face darker.
"Thanks for the meal."
Dad picked up his spoon without a word. Even though he was the one hurting most, he didn't let it show. Same as always.
I can't just keep playing games anymore.
Dad's retirement was right in front of us. If his son couldn't become the pillar of the household, the least I could do was stand on my own. Right. I couldn't spend the rest of my life inside HuntMan. It was time to come back to the real world.
A twenty-five-year-old with no job. My academic record was nothing special, and I didn't even have a single ordinary certification. But it was time to stop being an in-game backseat addict and start being a functioning adult who could pull his own weight.
I wanted to become a hunter like Dad, too.
I wanted to be called a reliable advisor, not a backseat pest. I wanted to climb the Tower the way my characters did in the game. In the end, that kind of luck never found me.
After dinner I sat down at the computer and booted up HuntMan with the feeling that this was the last time—to see the ending.
The 100th Floor is probably the last one.
I was on the 99th Floor. Just one step left. The image of Dad stopping his climb kept flickering at the edge of my thoughts, and that only made me less willing to stop here.
Why is it so much fun today?
Maybe it was because I knew I had to leave. I even held down the instinct to go drop advice on the community and forced myself to focus. It felt a little like those last days before graduation, when you squeeze every last scrap of time out of the clock just to hit karaoke with your friends one more time. The passion came roaring up. And then, at last—
"I cleared it!"
I conquered the 100th Floor. The chat and the community boards erupted like a server-wide announcement had just gone out. At the same time, a message window appeared in front of my eyes.
A chime rang out.
…Huh? What is this?
I awakened?
But when you awaken, does a translucent notification window just appear in front of your face? I'd never heard of anything like that.
This isn't a game.
Reality isn't supposed to have status windows the way HuntMan does. Well—maybe there was something I just didn't know. I was a complete newbie who'd only just awakened, after all.
"Dad!"
I ran out to the living room to deliver the news. I could climb the Tower in his place now!
"Absolutely not!"
"What?"
"After seeing what happened to your old man, you still want to be a hunter?"
Worry sat heavy underneath the rough edge of his voice. He was terrified his child would have an accident the way he had. Even so, my answer didn't change.
"Yes. I want to."
Dad flinched.
"…Right. Of course you did. You've been obsessed with 'that game' since you were little."
So… he was giving permission?
"Still, no!"
"What?"
"But I can see I won't be able to stop that passion of yours."
With the whole family watching, Dad offered an alternative.
"Get a job at Dad's guild."
"M-me? I don't even have the credentials. How would I get in there?"
"Don't worry about that."
He breezed right past it, as if that weren't the important part at all.
"Work on the support team and see the reality of hunters for yourself. If you haven't changed your mind after six months, then I'll truly allow it."
"Really?"
"Honey!"
"How am I supposed to stop him when that's what he wants? Let him be."
Not being able to climb the Tower right away was disappointing. But if I'm honest, I'd been a little scared too. There was Dad's case, after all. This was a good offer for me as well. I could gather information first and then decide. The Tower is a dangerous place, and you only get one life.
Plus, Dad's guild is a major operation I could never dream of joining with my credentials.
There was no reason in the world to refuse.
"On one condition!"
"Condition?"
"Don't go around giving people cocky backseat advice!"
"Yes, sir!"
Right in the bullseye. Fine. In front of actual hunters, I would really watch my mouth.
Don't worry, Dad. Your son is going to do this for real!
I watched the broad line of his back as he headed into his room, my eyes bright with resolve. And then—
A chime rang out.
Commencing Hunter Management
Analyzing the target's information and problems to derive an appropriate solution.
Huh?
A strange notification had appeared right in front of my eyes.